I Saw Him: Draco Malfoy ON HIATUS
by SolitaryMovement
Summary: “Stay with me. Just be with me while we’re here, away from the rest of the world. Here where no one knows us or cares. We’re two strangers here. No one can hurt us and no one will. Let’s just be us and be together.”
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: If you recognize any of the characters/objects/settings/etc. that corresponds to the Harry Potter series by Rowling, they do not belong to me._

**Prologue**

**I saw him, mostly out of the corner of my eye, away from all the hubbub of normalcy. Away from the lives that we built around the people that knew us. I saw him for the boy he really was. Tired, wary, down trodden, dirty, unloved, and poorly treated. I saw him with a family of muggles, trudging along after them, carrying their things, listlessly staring off into space while a fat man berated him, and then stiffly taking a cuff to the head from said fat man with a glare. He didn't say a single word the whole time. **

**I nearly didn't even recognize him. I barely glanced at him, but looked again when I saw shaggy black hair and terribly outdated round, wire rimmed glasses. I stared for a good two minutes before decided that really was him. The glare he sent at the fat man was the mirror image of the one usually directed at me.**

**For a moment I entertained the thought of going over there to rub it in his face how he was clearly a mere serf to these people, but something held me back. Perhaps it was the utterly pathetic air of the whole situation. Perhaps I was in a particularly giving mood. Perhaps I just figured he was doing a good enough job of making a worthless wretch out of himself without me. Whatever it was, I was exceptionally less malicious to my house elf that night, and would later try to convince myself that I did NOT pity or feel remorseful for Potter at all.**

**A/N: I have NO idea how this came around. It just suddenly bit me in the ass out of nowhere. In fact, I wasn't even reading/looking at/thinking about Harry Potter at the time. I swear, without warning, this happened. I don't know where it will lead me or if I'll even be continuing it. It's rated T for now, but if I do continue with it, it might just turn into M. A careful warning for any of you who are anal about ratings.**

**P.S. I'm not sure who the character in first person I'm writing about is right now. So…I'm opening a poll. Review and vote for who you want it to be. CLEARLY this is someone who hates Harry Potter. So don't go giving me shit like "Hermione", "Cho", "Ginny" or whatever! Heck! I'm not even against a slash pairing. In fact, I completely condone it. So bring on the "Draco's" and "Blaise's". I don't mind if it's a character that is hardly ever read about or is from a house other than Slytherin, if I like that idea enough, I'll over rule the poll and use him/her. ^_^ Yes, I'm an author after all. Authors can be dictators with their stories. If you're going to bitch about my decision all I have to say to you is, "Bite me!" and "Life isn't fair! Suck it up and grow up!"**

**P.P.S. Y'all should also know that the next chapter depends on who the other surprise character is.**

**Ta, lovies! Looking forward to your replies!**


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: If you recognize any of the characters/objects/settings/etc. that corresponds to the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, they do not belong to me._

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Chapter 1

**We were going to France, or at the very least everyone had thought we were. Instead, due to risk of high exposure and threats of attack from insane anti-dark arts activists, Mother decided against France for our summer vacation. We opted for Greece instead, well, Mother did. I never did have much say in the matter. I would have preferred Milan, Berlin, or even Rome. Paparazzi be damned. I'm of pure blood; I'm used to that kind attention. I could easily maneuver my way out of the mess, just as surely as my mother could. I suppose she had enough that summer and didn't want to HAVE to maneuver her way out.**

**Oh yes, we were definitely escaping. Father had been captured near the end of the school year at the Ministry. Caught red handed in Death Eater garb and throwing around dark magic and forbidden curses and the like. Being so frightened, Mother instantly sent me a letter saying that we were going to France for the summer and to let all my friends know so that they "needn't worry about your absence". Of course, my mother is just so clever like that and as soon as I stepped foot in the Manor, my luggage and I were swept up into a flurry of magic and dumped onto the white marble flooring of the foyer of a very lovely, but terribly small summer home in Attica, Greece. **

**One would think that I was shocked, but I hardly batted a lash at this sly scheme. I definitely blinked several times from the rough landing though. I could easily read the hidden message that my mother's letter conveyed to me. It was very lovely of her to inform me that we would be leaving "the immediate moment you come home. All of the plans have been prepared and they're on a very tight schedule. I apologize that you will not have time to rest, however, I'm certain that your room in the Villa will be to your liking." My room was to my liking indeed, if only it were bigger.**

**I understood Mother's mentality though. No one can ever accuse Narcissa Malfoy of being careless. At times I think she is too cautious for her own good, but she'd merely brush my musings aside with a stern, "Best to be safe, rather than sorry later, Draco dear." A small summer home, in Santorini Greece with hardly any magical items within sight; we were definitely hiding and doing everything the much more difficult way.**

**To say that I am unaccustomed to doing things the "muggle way" would be an outright lie. Certainly I don't know all the ins and outs of the muggle world, I still have my pride, of course, but there have been times when we had to be a little less conspicuous. I also have to give credit to Mother, who made it very clear to me that I was to learn how to do things the difficult way in case a difficult situation ever did arise. Once more scolding me with her "Best to be safe, rather than sorry later, Draco dear," when I wouldn't comply. That led to the disappearance of my wand and every magic item in the home for a good month. Though Father found it rather distasteful at the time, he did not argue with my mother's logic, though I think it's mostly because she left his study intact, giving him a place of sanctuary.**

**I'm running off topic now. Presently, I'm sitting under the awning of a little corner café sipping occasionally at my coffee. I have to admit, I've become addicted to this muggle brew. I haven't the faintest why. I hated it when I first tasted it. Bitter and bold against my tongue; though I quickly got used to it, adding a bit of milk and sugar to lighten the biting tang. It started as an experiment, albeit a forced one (Mother's fault), but still an experiment. Eventually I began drinking it regularly to pass the time on our summer vacations. It's a much better pass time than smoking those acrid cigarettes that everyone seems enamored with. **

**However, I digress. I sip the coffee very slowly, only dipping into the drink whenever the taste almost completely faded from my mouth, to savor it slowly, not caring that it has gone tepid by now. I sit casually, watching the world go by. There isn't much else to do when on vacation and hiding from the rest of the wizarding world. Of course, there is homework, but who in their right minds would want to do that at the very beginning of summer? Well…there is that Granger girl, though she's a freak of nature all on her own, she doesn't count. Not even the Ravenclaws start their homework in the first two weeks of summer vacation.**

**Everything is quite peaceful here really. It's nice. I'll admit that I like Greece more than France. There's too much hustle and bustle in France, in the big cities anyways, and that's where we always visit. Santorini is rather busy itself, but there's a sort of calm over it that isn't present elsewhere. They're more carefree here. They don't have schedules to keep up with like in the big cities. They're just going about their normal routine lives. There's a definite undisturbed peace here. Not even the tourists can disturb this peace, they're a part of it after all, which is strange and hard to explain, but they are. I'm very much tranquil here and I sit and watch. For once, there is a serenity in my whole being that is nowhere else. Perhaps I can talk Mother into considering living here permanently.**

**I chuckle bitterly out loud. No, a nice dream though. We still have responsibilities back home. A war to fight, sides to choose, people to kill…God, war is disgusting. I rub a finger along my right cheekbone, a tired habit that I've acquired. It's much classier than running my fingers through my hair and less nervous too; besides, I don't look as disheveled this way.**

**Abruptly, without warning, the peace is shattered by loud, obnoxious, male bellowing. Who in all of their recollected mental capacity would dare to disrupt Draco Malfoy's quiet repose? I look in the direction of the commotion, my eyes are bare slits and a deep frown graces my lips. Of course, muggles, but not just any muggles because the muggles in Greece I can tolerate, but muggle **_**tourists**_**. Rude, disgusting, lowly muggle tourists. It's at times like these when I think that my father and that old coot are on the right track for wanting all muggles dead. Yes, I've actually seen the old bastard. It was all part of the "grooming process" to make me part of the next generation of Death Eaters. Frankly, I found the entire thing vulgar and tasteless. What's the fun of torturing a muggle when they hadn't the faintest of what was going on? And I could hardly see the allure of getting blood and other bodily matter all over the place, including yourself, even if you could spell it all away afterwards. I'm a firm believer in the fact that if you didn't need to dirty your own hands in first place, don't bother.**

**It's an entire family of rude, disgusting, lowly muggle tourists. Two of them as hefty as bovines and another two lanky enough to be mistaken as popsicle sticks. The portliest of them all, a man with a bushy mustache, is giving the lanky figure in baggy, old clothing, shaggy black hair, and round wire rimmed glasses a tongue lashing. It's a wonder they've even made it all the way to Greece with that kind of attitude. Don't they know that they should keep their personal issues to themselves? Rather than disturbing oth-…wait…shaggy black hair and round wire rimmed glasses. Is that? No…it couldn't be. In Greece of all places? With that horrid, beastly, abominable, vulgar muggle family? The golden boy of the wizarding world? I stare longer, for another good minute. Yes…yes that is definitely Potter. There is no doubt about it. The out of control, unmanageable, never groomed hair, completely out of style glasses, and deeply spiteful glare have always belonged to Saint Potter. What on earth is he doing in Greece and with those…**_**people**_**!**

**Oh, this is quite spectacular. The Great Harry Potter is being chewed down to size by a grotesquely over weight walrus of a muggle. Sweet, vindictive, karmic justice. In fact, I may even just walk over there to say something. Rub salt into the wound as one would say. I get ready to do just that. I sit up straighter, set both feet onto the ground from where I was laid back with crossed legs, but I stop. A second look at his face and I freeze completely, relaxing back into my seat.**

**An expression of murder so much more fierce than any he has ever sent at me mars his face. Utterly cold and hateful; it's an expression that even I've never seen on that of "The Dark Lord" himself. And the old snake is most certainly very good at pulling those kinds of faces.**

**This is incredibly perplexing. Why on earth **_**would**_** Potter allow this filthy behemoth of a useless sack of skrewt dung to rant and rave at him? Just as the question crosses my mind the unbelievably fat "man" boxes Potter upside the head. I watch incredulously as all Potter does is glare at his assailant. A very impressive glare, which I will never admit out loud, but that is the extent of his defense and much of a defense at all. To say that I'm shocked by the turn of events is an understatement of a lifetime. However, I'm very proud of the fact that my countenance does not portray what I am feeling, I'm a Malfoy after all.**

**I sit up straighter than I had originally been. Before I know what I'm doing, I send a silent spell in the muggle tourists' direction. In an instant all sound coming from their blathering traps is silenced. Sweet peace. Utter astonishment is evident on Potters face. I lean back in my seat, watching with amusement at the muggles' horrified faces and Potter's flabbergasted one. He looks around frantically for the source of the charm. His eyes finally land on me. I have absolutely no idea why, but I merely smirk, tilt my head in the smallest nod, and apparate back to the foyer of the Villa. I had the small triumph of seeing Potter's stunned face becoming deathly pale with terror. Poor Pothead, I've certainly given him nightmares for the night. I suppose I'll see about finding him tomorrow and terrorizing him some more. This vacation might just be turning up.**

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**A/N: Due to the fact that I hardly received any reviews as to who the narrator should be, I've decided to just do the unoriginal thing and choose Draco. No, I'm kidding. I actually had Draco or Pansy in mind at the very beginning, but due to lack of reviews, I decided to just go with it. In the end, I still can't choose between Draco and Pansy, so I'm just going to split them into two different stories. Same original concept, different direction for storyline. I was a little tempted to do Blaise, but I didn't have enough confidence in my perception of the character to attempt it, so Draco it is. Hahaha, I know, very unoriginal, but it works. Hopefully I do all the characters justice. I'm not a huge fan of Harry Potter, so in the case I make any mistakes, correct me immediately, please. Thanks for reading and please review. Until next time. Ta, lovies~! ^_~**


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If you recognize any of the characters/objects/settings/etc. that corresponds to the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, they do not belong to me.

_A/N: I forgot to mention that the timeline for this fic is set after OotP, just in case for those who wanted clarification. Sorry for forgetting!_

_**Chapter 2**_

_I've decided that I don't rightly care why Potter is here in Greece, just that he is to provide me with some entertainment. Clearly he's at the mercy of these muggles, whom I can only deduce must be his guardians for lack of any better possibilities. Of course, he'd be at their mercy because he can't use his wand, what with the Ministry tracking it and all; quite unlike mine, where it's been spelled from the Ministry's records. Father cleverly placed an enchantment on my wand when I first got it, so I could use it whenever I pleased. He also pulled some strings at the Ministry while he had still been working there._

_Currently, I'm sitting at a table on the roof of a café, once more sipping at a cup of coffee, staring out at the town. This is where Potter first saw me and he is a rather predictable creature, so safe to say, this is where he'd come looking for me first, of course I had been on the ground floor when he first saw me. I'll be the first to admit that he is not very observant. I'll escape his notice for sometime up here. I carefully watch as the world mills by, keeping an eye out for the familiar mop of horridly ungroomed black hair. Another hour of casual sitting and monitoring the everyday activities finally yields results. Potter comes slinking into the area, cautiously. He notably stays behind the corner of a building first, looking out over the district before deciding it was safe to come into open space. I allow him to fester there on his own for a bit, looking for me, before finally tiring of waiting for him. I've been sitting here for the past two hours waiting on his majesty's presence after all. I'm not about to wait a minute longer than I really need to._

_Discreetly, I slip my wand out of my sleeve and give a flick, mumbling a spell into my cup of coffee just before taking a sip. A moment later Potter smacks the back of his neck as if he's been bitten by a mosquito. A second after that he does it again to his arm, only to notice that there's nothing there. He suspiciously scrutinizes everything in his vicinity, flinching as he feels another pinch. A childish spell, I admit, but I had invented it at the age of seven, bent on petty revenge against a certain Theodore Nott Jr. for embarrassing me in front of several noble pureblooded progenies. He had accused me of being too pretty to be male and had then spelled my clothes pink. To say I was furious would be putting it mildly. I, in turn, decided to torment him by causing him to feel like he had been bitten by a mosquito every three seconds on various parts of his body._

_I dispel the charm and wait to see how Potter would react. He is still searching for the source will no luck. With a sigh, I signal to a passing waitress. A pretty muggle with olive skin, bright mossy green eyes, and wavy dark hair; she comes over promptly, "Yes, Sir?" Her English is heavily accented, but understandable. Sweet voice, that one, pity she's a muggle._

_"It seems that a friend of mine," I nearly choke on the word 'friend', "is here in Santorini as well. I was not aware he would be here and would like to surprise him. Would you please invite him in on my behalf?" I smile charmingly at her, tilting my head just so, to make myself all the more dashing in her eyes._

_She smiles genially in reply, "Certainly, Sir. Would you like anything else?"_

_"No, thank you very much," A thankful smile and she turns to fetch Potter. I glance over the town again; to view the scene as the waitress tells Potter that a gentleman in the café has invited him to have a cup of coffee. Potter nods with a disarming smile and follows behind her. As soon as her back is turned, his brows furrow just a bit in uncertainty and a frown settles upon his lips._

_I'm just taking another sip as Potter sets foot on the roof. The waitress leads him over, I wave at the seat in front of me, he sits with some ambiguity. "Would you like anything to drink, Sir?" the waitress asks hospitably._

_"No, thank you," he responds gently. Potter, always the Saint._

_Mentally I roll my eyes. "Come now, Potter. Have a drink. It's on me."_

_He glances at me warily, "Alright. I suppose I'll have coffee."_

_"I'll be right back with your coffee then," the waitress smiles brightly once more before disappearing._

_"Coffee? I never figured you one for caffeine, Potter," I take another sip from my cup._

_His expression is completely guarded as he retorts, "Nor did I ever figure you one to be interested in anything that has to do with muggles. I'm surprised that you're not trying to scourgify every single muggle germ off of yourself."_

_I smirk arrogantly, knowingly, and just to aggravate him a little more, I cock a brow. "Are you now? I suppose it must be a surprise that I'm in even on Santorini of all places, hm? In fact, I quite surprised that you're here as well, Potter."_

_He scowls. "Cut the bollocks, Malfoy! What are you doing here? Are you watching me for _Voldemort_? Has he offered you a place in his Inner Circle for a job well done?" Potter hisses vehemently._

_I scoff, "Hardly. That decrepit snake wouldn't send _me_ on a mission to monitor you. He'd be more inclined with the thought of punishing my father by sending me on a suicide mission of some sort more than anything else. No, I'm here on vacation, like you. Or, perhaps, not quite. It seems more like you're here to slave after a _muggle_ family than be on a vacation." The stony anger on Potters face instantly melts into horror as I mention his muggle guardians. I smirk viciously, "So I'm right then. You're here to serve them hand and foot? Who knew the great Saint Potter, Golden Boy, Savior of the Wizarding World is a mere servant to a puny, insignificant muggle family." I lean forward, tilting my head slightly and smile victoriously, like the cat that caught the canary._

_The arrival of Potter's beverage halts him from snarling anything possibly venomous at me. He's vibrating with anger and I would guess accurately that the only reason he hasn't jumped from his seat to assault me is because of our setting. With all these muggles around, it wouldn't do to cause a scene, especially when I can just hex him and he has no other defense than his fists._

_"Would you like anything else, Sir?"_

_"No, thank you," Potter says curtly._

_I smile charismatically at the waitress, "It's alright, love. He's just having a few personal issues, the home isn't too bright for him right now and I wasn't being very tactful. Forgive his tone." The waitress nods understandingly and quickly makes her exit. I turn back to Potter, "Now look at what you've done. You've frightened the poor girl. Pretty thing that one, even if she is a muggle." The expression on Potter's face is priceless. He's so completely taken aback, quite a delicious little victory. I've decided to be as off putting as possible, the stunned silence is just so highly amusing. Yes, baiting Potter will always prove to be great entertainment._

_He seems to snap out of it soon enough. Brushing it off and trying to keep a steely attitude, he growls at me, "Dispel whatever you did to my relatives, now!"_

_I smirk slowly, my lips stretching so sluggishly, making it into a wantonly delighted affair. I sit back in a boneless manner, draping one arm over my stomach, elbow propped just above it, and a hand cradling the side of my face. My index finger taps lightly against my cheekbone. "Ah, I'd almost forgotten about that. How are they fairing by the way? I imagine life must be passing just a bit more smoothly without all the incessant noise buzzing about."_

_"Almost forgot, Malfoy. You didn't forget completely. Dispel it, now."_

_"No, I don't think I will, Potter. Your ungrateful comportment has me feeling rather put out. Not even a small 'thank you' for saving the day. I even invite you to a cup of coffee. I've been nothing, but hospitable and quite polite. You haven't even answered my question."_

_"No, you haven't. You made that jab about taking up after my relatives."_

_"Touché. However, I am being impeccably more amicable with you than I usually would."_

_Potter clenches his fists, "I don't care about whatever games you're playing, Malfoy. Just get rid of the spell you put on my relatives and leave me the hell alone." He glares at me hotly, not anymore heated than the usual bouts of threatening stares I've received. It's hardly going to bother me especially when he can't make a scene or use his wand._

_I glance up, catching the waitress's eye and signal her over. I pull out my wallet, retrieve a few bills and pass them to her when she arrives. "Thank you, you've been very helpful." A pleasant smile from me, a quick "thank you" from her, and I turn back to meet Potter's gaze; I cock a brow._

_"I've already told you, Potter. I'm not going to remove the spell. Your _relatives_ are just going to have to live with it for a while. I'm sure you'll thank me one day. Perhaps you'll be more cordial tomorrow and tell me how they're fairing with their new particular condition. Good day, Potter, enjoy your coffee," and with that, I take my leave by disapparating. I will always be very grateful to my father for the enchantment on my wand and my mother for teaching me how to master apparation at an early age._

_A/N: Right, so I'm aware that some of you may hate me because Draco seems OOC. Sorry, but I'm taking some artistic license by making him a little more cool. I can't help it, I just always believed that Draco is a bit more calm and collected than he was ever portrayed in the series, I mean, his parents must have raised him very strictly in that respect. He's of "noble pureblood" after all. I hardly think his parents are going to let him parade around acting like a little prat and disgrace the family name. He's also a Slytherin and they've been described at cunning and clever. I found it distasteful that he would turn into such an immature, overtly arrogant, stinkin', petty little brat as the series progressed. Besides, I want to portray them a little more realistically than just a bunch of children. Teenage boys are not THAT immature and petty, some can be, but their temperament usually starts to even out when they hit the 16-17 range. I would know, I have two younger brothers that are like that._

_I want to thank everyone who reviewed. Thank you very much. Hopefully I get hit with some more ideas and pump out a few more chapters. As for my Pansy fic, that one is still being fleshed out. I've got about half of the first chapter coming along. It's a little difficult because most of Pansy's character that I'm familiar with is derived from fanfiction. I'm trying my best. Hopefully I do her justice. This is just what happens when I'm not a regular of a particular fandom and get mauled by a plot bunny out of nowhere. Please do review! I love them! I live by them! Please review! Make me feel loved! ^_^ Ta, lovies~~! ^_~_


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: If you recognize any of the characters/objects/settings/etc. that corresponds to the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, they do not belong to me._

Chapter 3

Potter is already there waiting for me when I step up to the café the next day. He's on the roof, in a corner, staring out over the people mulling about. I imagine he must have been surprised when he saw me walking around the corner towards the café. He had probably thought I would apparate before him. How silly of him.

I airily seat myself in the chair across from him as he watches me intently. I smile courteously at him, ordering coffee like usual. "Potter," I greet blithely as a friend might. I settle my hands in my lap, twining my fingers together.

He doesn't respond right away. Eventually Potter says stonily, "Malfoy." He's trying to keep his face as impassive as much as possible, but I've had a lot of practice in reading people and his eyes are oh-so-very clearly giving him away. He's very stormy right now, angry and contemplative all in one.

I merely nod and let the silence go. I allow myself to observe the muggles calmly, keeping a watch on Potter from the corner of my eye. He'll speak when he's ready. It's quite amusing to study Potter when he's trying to come to grips with reality.

Finally, Potter speaks. He leans forward and clasps his hands together, resting his elbows on the table. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

My coffee arrives then and I take a generous sip. "I'm on vacation."

"In Greece? Tiny, almost in the middle of nowhere Santorini, Greece?"

"Yes, it's quite peaceful here. Away from all the turbulence of Britain."

Surprise flickers across Potter's eyes momentarily, then he is supposedly stony once more. "You're supposed to be in France."

Another sip from my cup, "Says who? Parkinson? Greengrass? Or maybe even Bulstrode? I wouldn't put too much stock into what they would have to say, personally."

Potters eyes furrow, instead of growling or snarling, he decides for a different angle. "Why aren't you in France?"

I don't answer right away. I wonder whether if telling him would yield any undesired consequences. "My mother changed her mind." Might as well, I'm already bearing my soul to him. I would chuckle bitterly out loud if he wouldn't take it to offense or be too analytical and turn around to accuse me of being "Dark".

"Your mother is here?"

My lips twitch into a small smirk. "No. She was, but she left yesterday. Off to who knows where. Perhaps she is trying to procure an expensive vase in China or some other. Truthfully, she left me quite unwittingly. Just a note to tell me that she'll return when the time comes for me to return to school."

Something resembling a glower passes over Potter's face. "Are you working for Voldemort?"

"Not hardly, no. I haven't the stomach to work for the crazed serpent. Though my father may have forgotten the dignity and reverence that comes with the Malfoy name, I have not. I would not lower myself to working for a weak of constitution, madman," I scoff without hesitation. It is not the whole truth that my father has forgotten the prestige of the Malfoy name; however he still had to sully that grace for the Malfoy line. For the sake of the survival of the family, my father had to play vassal to the batty old fool. He was powerful then and my father had to play his cards smart. Each step my father took was carefully orchestrated to keeping my family alive. Even now my father wallows away in a demented prison because he did what he thought best to keep my mother and me safe. The admiration for my father has never been false. It is a sad realization that Lucius Malfoy will never be recognized as merely a man desperate to keep the family he loves safe.

"You're not here on Death Eater business?"

I smirk with a gentle bite. "Do you need to have your ears cleaned, Potter? No, I don't work for Voldemort, so I couldn't be here on his business."

"So you won't be a Death Eater then?" Potter stares at me hard here, as if he's trying to search the very depths of my soul by burning twin holes into my skull.

"Not if I can help it, no. In fact, I'd rather live here in Santorini for the rest of my life. There's a sort of peace here that I've never found anywhere else." I allow a small whimsical smile here because I really do feel at peace here and also, of course, to confuse Potter even more. Baiting Potter shall forever be my favorite pass time. "So," I murmur, breaking from my reverie, "have you obtained any spectacular, enlightening morsel of information from this particular interrogation?"

Potter growls low in his throat. "How can I even trust a word you're saying to me?"

I smooth the features of my face, giving him a stoic expression and more expressive eyes. I want him to understand. I hold his gave solemnly, "You can't. You'll have to take it on intuition. I haven't lied to you yet. Ponder on that and see if you're willing to take my words at face value." I sever our intense staring contest to sip at my coffee. I wince disdainfully. "It would seem that my coffee has grown tepid. Perhaps you will be in a more gracious mood tomorrow." I drop a few bills onto the table and disapparated. I lied again. My coffee wasn't even starting to cool.

A/N: Yeah, sorry guys. It was kind of short, but I felt like I had to end it there. I couldn't push it any further, doing so would have just felt wrong. I'm a firm believer in the fact that if one pushes their work too hard, they'll end up with a lot of bullshit that's too rushed, too slow, too much info or not enough info. I like taking a moderate pace each chapter, but I am sorry that this chapter was kind of short.

Anywho…I've finally added the other story! It's under a similar title: "I Saw Him: Pansy Parkinson". Despite what someone you might think, I've actually read a few Harry/Pansy fics that are quite good. I thought I'd take a crack at it and it's turned out alright so far. You don't have to read it, but please do! I'd really appreciate it!

Like always, please review! I love reviews! Thank you to everyone who did last chapter! Much love!

Ta, darlings! ^_~

P.S.!!! I know how much I hate cliffhangers, so I'm going to be as wonderfully nice as much as possible and try not to leave off with cliffhangers. I HOPE YOU APPRECIATE ME FOR THIS! Most other authors get revenge by just doing cliffhangers themselves, well I'm not like that. SO APPRECIATE THIS!


	5. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: If you recognize any of the characters/objects/settings/etc. that corresponds to the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling, they do not belong to me._

Chapter 4

I find myself staring at the mirror today. I left Potter alone on the café rooftop yesterday. And now I've decided to stare at myself. I'm staring at my perfectly immaculate hair. I'm staring at my clean face, my blue eyes, my straight nose, my bow lips and I can't help but think, "I am one gorgeous sexy bastard." Hah! No, that's not what I'm really thinking. I'm thinking about how impassive I look in this mirror. My expression is so bland it's beyond the point of boredom, but I'm not so blank. I'm thinking about Potter. Even though what he said to me yesterday was to be expected, I was still somewhat caught unawares. Perhaps it is just that I didn't particularly care for his tone at the moment, his accusation is hardly out of the norm.

It's this place I think. I'm too relaxed, too carefree, too unguarded…and I love every minute of it. I feel a small twinge of guilt for feeling so wonderful here, but I scold myself and push the guilt down. What does it matter if I feel good for just this short moment of time? I may not be able to feel like this ever again. What with the entire European wizarding world in turmoil over this war. And I'm supposedly on the "bad" side. What I wouldn't give to just live here for the rest of my life. I wouldn't mind it so much. Perhaps even in the States, as appalling as those bloody Americans are; it can't be all bad. To be away from the war and insanity.

Bah, I'm brooding again. Can't have any of that. I'm in Santorini, Greece, the perfect vacation destination for relaxing and being at peace. Negative emotions have no place here. I nod. With a final determination, I leave the summer home towards the little café in the little town square. If Potter's there, I'll deal with him the way I always do. I'll bait him until he explodes. Aggravating Potter has always been very amusing. That should help take my mind off of things.

And then I realize. I left in quite a huff yesterday over Potter's question of my honor. Perhaps I should give him what he wants. A bit of the Malfoy he remembers, just to catch him off guard. I ponder it for a moment, but shake my head. I'll deal with him the way I always deal with him, up front and on a moment's notice. No need to waste time planning on the predictable.

I step into the town square and settle my gaze on the café rooftop. Potter isn't there, at least not at the table that we'd been occupying for the past two days. Perhaps he decided not to show. I allow a slight anxious tilt of my head, I move along. Why settle for the café? I should do something else today. Lunch would be lovely, just around the right time too. I find myself atop a small restaurant a few moments later. Once again I'm overlooking the town square. I order a plate of grilled squid stuffed with vegetables and cheeses, doused in a light tomato sauce, and peppered with fresh herbs. One can't come to an island and NOT eat seafood. Minutes trickle by; my food arrives and still no sign of Potter.

My, my, my, it seems I've unnerved Potter after all…or could it be I spoke too soon? Just around a bend, on a hill top, behind the wall of a small shop is a boy with tousled black hair and ratty old clothes. I watch for a moment longer before confirming that that is indeed Potter. I debate a moment on whether I should catch his attention or not. Maybe he will be just a bit more courteous today. A subtle wave of my wand and my whisper of "above the restaurant across from the café" floats to his ear. Potter's direction instantly changes and he comes in my direction.

I don't wait long for Potter to be sitting across from me, having just ordered an iced tea. "Nothing to eat, Potter?" I ask casually.

"I wouldn't want to be in your debt, now would I?" Potter replies just as evenly, however he doesn't look up at me from his napkin. Hm, irritated, uncertain, and calculating. A new tactic today.

"Eat. You may not get another chance to enjoy this sort of food in such a carefree environment."

That was it. Potter's head snaps up and his eyes bear heavily, angrily into mine. "What's that supposed to mean?" he hisses. And his temper gets the best of him yet again. Predictable.

I keep my face blank, but I allow a hard sheen over my eyes. I swallow, barely tasting the food that I had been so greatly enjoying just a second ago. "It means exactly as I say it. It could be that you may never think to come back to this exact spot to dine upon this light, but flavorful Mediterranean food again or you may be too dead to step onto this plane. There's trouble brewing. Don't be blind to it, even if you are on vacation."

Potter's visible hand on the table clenches tightly and I have a feeling that the one on his knee is too. "Are you threatening me, Malfoy?"

I lay a full force glare on him now. "No. It is a very simple statement. With war approaching back home, who knows who will survive to come back to this place? I'm quite fond of it myself. Again, I suggest you enjoy it while you still can and hope that you may do so again after the chaos has blown over." I keep eye contact for a moment longer before directing my sight downwards at my plate. I gently cut away a piece of cheese and spinach, placing it in my mouth. I turn back to him, holding his gaze once more while I chew.

Potter watches me steadily, studying for any sort of foul play. An almost unnoticeable nod and he signals a waiter. He places an order for the same dish as mine. After the waiter has left he states plainly, "You'll be covering this, of course."

A sardonic smirk touches just the corners of my lips, barely traceable, but I'm sure Potter caught on. "Of course."

Silence presses down on us. Potter sips his tea nervously. Finally, he speaks, "They're fine you know. Clearly distraught, but they don't seem to be showing signs of discomfort from what would be expected."

I cock my eyebrow, tilting my head just a bit, "Your relatives?"

"Yes." He looks down into his tea. Probably deciding whether he should partake of it again or not.

I nod. "Perhaps I'll leave it on them until school is back in session." I smirk just a bit at the delightful idea. The muggle tourists with the manners even worse than swine would deserve it.

"Tempting," Potter nods. "But I'd rather if you rid of it sooner."

I only smile at Potter cheekily, "Where would the fun be in that?"

Potter nods again. "True." He allows the matter to settle.

I'm shocked, really, deep, deep, DEEP down I am. I just smiled at Potter, almost in a friendly manner. He's speaking to me just as steadily. I had anticipated another minor conflict. It seems I may just be wearing him down.

"You'll be going back to school? With your father in prison?"

Ah, I spoke too soon…again. This could be translated as "You're not afraid of attending school where everyone will hate you? Your family still has access to your assets? They haven't been seized now since your father's been proved a traitor?" Indeed, Potter is as stubborn as always.

I press my lips into a thin, pale line for a minute's turn. I speak carefully, "I will be returning to school once summer ends. My father will serve his time." Translation: "I'm not afraid of anyone, let them hate me. I will not be held accountable for my father's actions. Mine are my own, as are his to himself." I level Potter with an unwavering resolved expression. I will not be cowed. Though, applause to Potter for playing such a quieter game, clumsy, but quieter nonetheless.

Potter's next question is thoroughly planned due to the interruption of the arrival of his food. "What classes do you plan to be taking next year?" Translation: "Will you be attending classes with many Gryffindors in the same room?"

"The advancing classes from what I took last year. With the exclusion of Divination for Arithmancy." Translation: "Slytherin on one side of the room and Gryffindors on the other. An extra class with your know-it-all, bookworm friend too."

"Arithmancy?" Translation: "Don't you hate everything muggle?"

"It is a good way to hone my skills in strategy and tactics. I like to exercise my mind with puzzles. Equations wouldn't be much of a difference." Translation: "I'll be watching you and yours, so I know when to bolt if things turn particularly sour."

Potter sighs, "You're being awfully forthcoming and, dare I say it, friendly."

"You, yourself, are being very hospitable as well. Just the other day I was questioning your ability to grasp the concept of common courtesy. You didn't seem so inclined to believe me then."

Potter scowls, "I'm not so terrible! What should I have thought? What could I think in that kind of a situation?"

I shrug gallically, a gesture I've mastered from spending many vacations in France. "Who can guess?"

Potter scowls some more. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly as I say it."

"Oh yes, you're being so very helpful, Malfoy," Potter deadpans.

"Sarcasm is the poor man's wit."

Potter glares, "You can be very infuriating."

I smirk cheekily at him, "Why of course. Haven't I always been?"

Potter sighs, "You're doing it again."

"Hm?" I chew thoughtfully on a piece of squid.

"Being so…friendly."

"I blame it on this place."

"What?"

I look up at Potter from my plate. "I blame my amicable behavior on this island. It has a wonderful atmosphere. It makes me feel like I can forget everything. Besides, who really knows us here? My mother is off to only Merlin knows where and your relatives can't even utter a sigh. Who can say who we are but ourselves? I am feeling perfectly content and I have deemed it unnecessary to allow you to pull me into that dark corner that you so like to sulk and mope in."

Potter scowls. "I don't sulk or mope in a dark corner!"

"Alright, you sulk and mope in the dark of Myrtle's bathroom."

Potter glares, "I don't sulk or mope at all! I've never stepped foot in Myrtle's bathroom!" A clear lie.

I give Potter a flat look. "Yes, you do and yes, you have. Your bleeding story is all over the damned school. You've been in Myrtle's bathroom a rather well rounded number of times…pardon my language."

Potter gapes, "You hardly ever care about your language! You're not Malfoy! Who are you!?! What have you done to the snide ferret!?!"

It's my turn to scowl. "I'm no ferret, you bleeding golden-hearted-hero postulant!"

Potter gives a clearly false slack-jawed realized expression. "Oh, you are Malfoy after all!"

I blink. Potter just, as the muggles would say, "made a funny". Did Harry Bloody-Saint Potter just make a joke, a rather friendly joke, at me? "My, my, Potter, aren't we getting familiar."

Potter stops and his countenance slowly slips into a frown. "You said so yourself. Who knows us here, but us? Might as well. I'm tired, dreadfully, completely, utterly exhausted. I want some peace." Potter sighs and stares at me, examining me just once more, hoping – with eyes so impossibly, painfully hopeful – that I'm sincere.

I hold his regarding eyes for a long few seconds before leaning forward just a bit. I say to him gently, "Who knows us here, but ourselves? We'll forget and we'll be quiet. And we'll be peaceful…for now."

Reassured, Potter murmurs, "The quiet before the storm."

"Yes," I nod, "just that. The quiet before the storm."

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A/N: So how was that!?! I hope it was alright. I kind of wrote it on a moment's notice. I was just suddenly struck at 2:30 in the morning yesterday and wrote straight for 1 ½ hours. I'm sorry if they seem too OOC, but I felt like it fit. It's really true, Draco realizing it before Harry that really they're practically alone on the island. I suppose in a moment of weakness Harry would want to believe that Draco is sincere. Someone in Harry's shoes must be desperate to some degree, to want a little bit of truth, quiet, peace in secrecy. I myself have felt that way several times while particularly stressed. It seem right. Sorry if it doesn't for you, and if you dislike my fic, then I'll tell you what I tell everyone else, if you don't like it, don't read it. Don't waste your and my time flaming or leaving a nasty review. It's unprofessional and distasteful.

However, I have come to a conclusion. It's dreadfully pathetic to demand reviews for updates, however it's much less pathetic to just beg for reviews without the bribing nature. So, I will let you all know, I am NOT above begging for reviews from my readers or begging for updates from authors of my favorite fics. If you love it, please tell me. If you feel the need to give CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, please do so. I will not tolerate flames or nasty reviews. Constructive criticism only. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


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